


Tagged

by kayurafii



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Adoribull - Freeform, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Coming Untouched, D/s, Hand Job, Kinda, M/M, Marking, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Sexual Sadism, Tattoos, Voice Kink, but mostly it's, little tiny smidgen of, masurbation, no Qun, possibly grossly, romantic, sexual masochism, sub-space, tattoo!AU, wild exaggeration perhaps of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5014696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayurafii/pseuds/kayurafii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: read the tags.  that’s it, that’s the story.</p><p>Or: Dorian gets a tattoo of The Iron Bull's name on his arse.  And is then tagged in a completely different way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tagged

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by maliwanhellfires ( http://maliwanhellfires.tumblr.com/ ) Adoribull Sunday prompt response for a Tattoo!AU. I will lead with a heath disclaimer  
> \- do not, do not, do NOT do what I write hereafter. You will know exactly what I’m talking about; and it’s not the smut. If you really need to know right away, check the end notes and I’ll spell it out.  
> If you know me - never acknowledge the existence of this to me or I will combust not so spontaneously.
> 
> Edit: So, I posted this last night while I was rather intoxicated. And I posted it straight away because I knew if I didn't it would never see the light of day. (I'm trying to actually finish and post things as opposed to staring blankly at a screen while wailing to my hubby). Anyway, the only reason this still exists is, prolly, because the person who inspired it has linked it, so it must live on. That being said, I am going to be editing this tonight. Please, if you see anything that it glaringly "drunk writer syndrome" let me know and I'll fix. 
> 
> Edit of the edit: this is now edited. Please let me know if i missed anything. I fixed some continuity issues and added some references to the work that inspired this one. One day I will figure out how to link things, but as I have tried with little success tonight, I quit for the mo.
> 
> Thank you for reading :3 (and for putting up with the inebriated first draft)
> 
> Edit further: (it's done now, i promise) beta read by my bff Dedkake for all of my comma-loving, tense-changing ways. ily

_Three months,_ Dorian thinks, _Three months isn’t too soon to_  actually _have a guys name tattooed on your arse. Yeah?_ He tries not to squirm as he hears the tattoo gun kick on. Which is, we’ll call it, difficult to do. He's arse up in the middle of a closed tattoo parlour, naked, and completely _secretly_  smitten with the man about to tattoo his name onto said smitten-one’s tender flesh.

The day after a thorough spanking would leave you tender too, thank you very much.

There's a very soft pillow he’s very pleased with propping up his belly lending a smooth curve to his rump and a gentle raise for his pelvis. His prick hangs, half hard, the tip barely brushing the cool leather of the bench.  The Iron Bull, tattoo artist and _boyfriend?_  is humming along with the stereo (some cheesey techno about dicks, _hilarious_ ) as he sterilizes the gun’s needles.

“You sure about this, big guy?” The Iron Bull asks with the tone of a man who knows the answer to his own question and is trying, valiantly, not to giggle.

“Yes, yes. Of course! Would’ve thought a great brute like you would not’ve needed an ego soothing!” Dorian bites his lip when he hears the Iron Bull’s controlled inhale.

“Hands above your head, Dorian, grip the edge of the table.” His tone sharp and low. Dorian doesn’t speak and only _just_ keeps his hands from breaking the sound barrier to grasp the table, slapping against the edge in his haste, his palms smarting. “Good.” The Iron Bull says, beginning to put everything into position around the man on his table. “You will hold there for the whole session. If you need anything, you will tell me. Otherwise," he smiles with teeth where Dorian can see him, "I want you silent until you just can’t keep it in anymore. I’ll know. What’s your word?”

“Katoh.” Dorian breathes the word out quietly but clearly.

“ _Good_ boy, Dorian,” The Iron Bull croons as he leans over the mage’s raised rump. The tattoo-gun starts up and Dorian tenses against flinching. A large, warm hand slides up the back of his thigh, from knee to hip. He relaxes into that heat until the buzz fades into the background, his concentration fully on the kossiith's hand.  "I'm going to start now," The Iron Bull says after a quiet moment of his hand resting on top of the stencil, the stereo breaking into some shrill pop music.

Dorian nods, eyes sliding close.

The Iron Bull pulls a portion of his flesh taut, humming along as he inks the first line.  There's silence for a long while, only the music weaving through genres between them, and the quiet sounds of Dorian's panting breaths.  It's not the first time he's been under the needle, the snake coiling and spreading across his lower back is testament enough to that.  And unlike the current project, that one was a three session work.  It spreads from his lower back, the tail dipping to just above his arse cheeks, to where the head curls up and over his shoulder.  Now it would have to settle for the second most challenging piece he's sat for.

The hum of the gun, the burn of the needles tracing across him, the chill of the air on the rest of his skin, the quiet growl of The Iron Bull singing beside him all nestling around him as white noise.  

Every once in a while,  when he adds ink, The Iron Bull reaches down between Dorian's legs to give his cock a firm stroke.  And Dorian finds that he's not sure which feeling to chase; the warm hand that promises him sweet pleasure, or the needles which promises so much more.  His mind circling and circling, searching for what he wants.

Then, caught in this loop of over-think and bring overwhelmed, Dorian tensing up, clenching all over, and hisses out a breath as he resists whimpering.  Then a warm, large hand strokes up his leg again, and he relaxes deeper and deeper.

He loses track of minutes and the number of songs that The Iron Bull has serenaded him with, but he starts when the kossith breaks from the music, "Dorian," sharp and sweet, making the man open his eyes, "I'm beginning the shading now.  Do you need to say anything?"

He blinks slowly at The Iron Bull and shakes his head slightly.

"So good, Dorian." The Iron Bull exhales, ghosting his hand over the black lines of the art.  Black lines in realistic style; a large double bladed ax crossing a shining staff with flowing banner around them, _The Iron Bull_ written in spidering calligraphy.  "Are you mine, Dorian?" he growls out, gripping the flesh below the lines.

He exhales loudly, keening through his nose, and The Iron Bull smiles down at him.

" _Good,_ "  The Iron Bull grunts out as he stands, gripping the back of the man's neck, "I think you deserve a break,  _kadan_ , for being so good." The weight of his grip abates as the kossith turns away, taking his warmth with him.  Goose flesh spreads quickly without the walking heater next to him.  He shivers.  "Lift you head, kadan." And towel is laid under his cheek.  And then The Iron Bull is back at his side, caressing the blank side of his arse.  And a cool drizzle crisscrosses the slope between his cheeks.  Warm, thick fingers spread the lube, circling his hole.  "Ready, Dorian?"

He nods, reveling in the course nap of the towel rubbing on his face.  And his jaw goes slack while his forehead creases as two thick fingers press into him.  He inhales sharply as they still inside him, simply being.  An intrusion.  The Iron Bull's free hand runs gentle fingers up and down his prick, cupping and squezing his balls, bracing against his abdomen.  He squirms, the stillness disturbing him.

"Be still."

He tries.  Sweat prickles across his forehead and down his back triggering shivers to roll through him.  He squirms again.

The Iron Bull shifts away from him, fingers still firmly pressed inside, and seconds pass before the sharp  _smack_  of his large hand across the un-inked cheek interrupts the stereo.  The man groans, belly deep and desperate, both cheeks burning and then fading as The Iron Bull begins to work his fingers in and out of his steadily relaxing hole.  Another cool drizzle of oil and a third finger spreads him wide.  Dorian whines.

The Iron Bull pulls away entirely after one more brief stroke, both inside and out of him.  He whines again.  And then the warmth is back, and he's opening his eyes as The Iron Bull slides a plug into him.  Cool, polished wood spreads him just slightly more than the kossith's fingers had prepared him for.  And he swallows a groan, but not the full-body shiver that threatens to knock him over.  Large hands steadied him, gripping into the top of his hips with a bruising grip until the shaking subsides.  Then large hands brush down and the plug finishes it's easy slide into him.  

And he weathers through as The Iron Bull wiggles it inside him, a moan dragging it's way out of him until there's no breath left and he groans.

"So good for me, Dorian, so beautiful." He can hear his amatus' smile in the quiet praise and The Iron Bull leans forward to press a biting kiss against his tailbone.  "Ready to continue?"

Dorian stills for a moment, breathing and processing the words.  The Iron Bull waits, stroking his hair to soothe.  He opens his mouth, dry and slow, "Water?"

The Iron Bull smiles, licks his purpling mark, and leans over to the far counter.  A glass with a straw, and a bottle of water, and gentle reminders to  _take it slow_ _, we've all the time in the world_ ,  _kadan_.  So Dorian sips water until he feels full.  The straw falls from his mouth as he closes his eyes and digs his fingers around the edge of the table. _  
_

The buzz of the needles makes him smile, and the first touch of ink to skin sees his whole face going slack.  A groan escapes him.  As he bites off, The Iron Bull reaches forward and stroke him, root to leaking head, once before he returns to his work.  He continues to groan, however, until he has to inhale, which quiets him for a time.  And it goes like that, occasionally a _particularly_ obscene sound will earn him a firm stroke.

"I can't wait for you to see it, kadan.  You'll always be mine.  Look how good, how strong you're being.  So perfect, for me." And on and on he went, sometimes describing the progression of the tattoo, sometimes just rubbing Dorian's ego with a heart quaking amount of emotion in it.

He feels it building; a heat behind his eyes and a tightening of his belly, an increase in his vocalizations, whining and moaning with barely a breath between them.  "Not yet, Dorian.  Just a little longer.  You're almost there, kadan, you can last a little longer.  Can't you?"

He nods, still whining, trembling to pick himself up and away from the leather, now slick and hot with his precum.

"Just a few more minutes,"  The Iron Bull soothes, leaning in to nuzzle at his neck.

The mage leans into it, relaxing as his breathing slows some. whining quietly when The Iron Bull pulls away, sighing when he returns to work.

(The Iron Bull takes, perhaps, only a  _little_ longer than he normally would to finish the tattoo, enjoying the way his lover tries not to squirm.  Enjoying the desperate sounds coming out of his kadan.  And certainly enjoying the smaller man's face, like he was seeing his Maker.  "There we go, Dorian," The Iron Bull says, pride in his tone and stroking the naked flesh opposite the new tag.  "I'm so pleased with you."  He turns away to move the ink, to wipe gently over the tattoo to clean and protect it, and finally to remove his gloves.)

" _Please_!" Dorian cries when The Iron Bull doesn't immediately return his hands to touching him, and both of them nearly freeze in place.

He groans as The Iron Bull's hand claps down, hard and fast, against his bare cheek.  It jars his whole body, blood and ink trickling as the tattoo shakes.  And Dorian comes, hard and fast and overwhelming.  His eyes are warm with tears.

"Please?" Dorian looks directly at The Iron Bull's crotch, "Please, Bull," he whines. 

The Iron Bull smiles at him, "I spoil you, kadan," as he undoes his pants and pulls out his own neglected cock.  He runs his hand over the bench under Dorian, eyes locked together, and he strokes with his newly slicked hand.  Hard strokes, until Dorian begins to push at him.

" _Yes_ , yes please, Bull.  Please." His voice lower than normal, gruff and a little dry.  Fully ruined.  And then he shivers, caught under The Iron Bull's heavy gaze, as he moans.

Hot ropes of cum paint his back, more than a little landing on the tattoo.  He groans, satisfied and electric, as it burns.

The Iron Bull laughs quietly, "Well, shit.  Gonna have to touch you up later, kadan."  Dorian projects, as best he can,  _I think I can endure it_ glimmer into his tired gaze.  Still a little far off.

Dorian relaxes down on the bench, enduring the sharp chill for the comfort, and concentrates on breathing and not floating away.

He feels the Iron Bull rub him down, cleaning again, and move him around.  Removing the plug with a quiet _pop_.  "Do you think you can walk, kadan?  The bed's just upstairs."

Dorian shakes his head, and Bull smiles as he assembles the mage into his arms as comfortably as possible.

"Amatus," he sighs, rubbing his cheek into the grey chest.

"I know, kadan, we have all night." 

**Author's Note:**

> DO NOT MAKE THE GIVING OF A TATTOO PART OF YOUR SEXUAL ENCOUNTER!  
> DO NOT TATTOO SOMEONE IN ANY ALTERED STATE OF MIND!!  
> DO NOT JIZZ ALL OVER A BRAND NEW TATTOO! FOR SO MANY REASONS!!!  
> DO NOT SPANK ANYTHING NEAR A NEW TATTOO! !!!
> 
> I listened to two playlists in 8tracks while writing this (with the occasional tumblr break):  
> http://maliwanhellfires.tumblr.com/  
> http://8tracks.com/shellfishdimes/ride-the-bull
> 
> Dorian must remember to buy Sera a honkin' drink as a thank you ;3


End file.
